


I do, I do, I do

by JaqofSpades



Category: Revolution (TV)
Genre: Matheson family weddings, Multi, no blackout au, porn with vague plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-03
Updated: 2015-06-10
Packaged: 2018-04-02 18:06:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 7,035
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4069492
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JaqofSpades/pseuds/JaqofSpades
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The bride has been kissed, the speeches are done, and the reception is sliding towards the sort of dangerous that only happens at family weddings.  If you’re a Matheson, that is.  (aka Charlie, Bass and Nora attempt to make Rachel's head explode.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. I do, I do, I do

**Author's Note:**

  * For [romeokijai](https://archiveofourown.org/users/romeokijai/gifts).



> Written in sections for the current 50 days of Revolution challenge over at nbc_Revolution on LJ, to an idea that came knocking when romeokijai wanted Charlie and Bass with Nora. Chapters will be short and snarky :D
> 
> * A minor revision just made to chapter one. Over on LJ, Thursday pointed out I hadn't made it clear who was getting married. In my head it was Miles and Rachel, so I've made that a bit clearer, but if you are like Thursday and prefer to believe it was Bass and Charlie choosing to indulge in a VERY NAUGHTY wedding night, go right ahead :D
> 
> * Chapter 7 added because Thursday, it turns out, is a genius.

The bride has been kissed, the speeches are done, and the reception is sliding towards the sort of dangerous that only happens at family weddings. If you’re a Matheson, that is.

Rachel and Miles had wanted to keep it small, so there are probably less than a hundred people boozing it up in their honor in one of the function rooms at Chicago's Grand Hotel. Pretty much all of them are hopped up on whiskey and champagne and the anticipation of wondering which family feud will erupt first. The smart money is currently on her and Bass, Danny had whispered he swung by their table earlier, though Dad’s tense little conversation with Miles at the bar had caught every eye in the room.

Almost every eye, Charlie grins, as she remembers the way her mother had ignored her two husbands to glare at her daughter, who’d leaned up over Bass to see what was happening. Charlie had waved, then put her glass down to clamber into her lover’s lap, licking a long stripe up the side of his neck for good measure.

He’d broken from his conversation with some guy from the Marines – Jeremy, Charlie thinks, though Bass keeps calling him Baker – to ask her if she was trying to get him killed. If he’s that worried about Rachel, Charlie says, he should probably remove his hand from underneath her skirt.

Bass just shrugs and shows her exactly how much he likes her garter belt. 

“Maybe we can save ourselves by making her head explode,” Charlie suggests, throwing Baker a wink as she slowly undoes the top button of his white shirt. The tuxedo jacket was discarded the minute they sat down to eat, and his tie is currently looped around her neck, so he doesn’t need that top button done up, Charlie explains as she lowers her lips to the hollow of his throat.

She actually hears the room hush, but it’s not until Bass’ hips jerk up that she hears a glass shatter.

“Bingo,” she breathes into his skin, and bites down in celebration. He curses into her hair, then drags her face up for a long, fierce kiss that leaves them both panting. Up until that point, they’d been mostly playing, but the slide of his tongue, the sting of his teeth ... Charlie is suddenly aching to take things to the room they’ve booked upstairs.

“Really, Bass? She’s what, twelve?”

Charlie’s mouth is firing long before she gets a good look at the woman who has slid into a chair on the opposite side of the table. 

“Lady, I have no idea who you are, but you can fuck right off to where you came from. And for the record? I’m 23.”

“Oh, sweetie. I know he scrubs up nice and you’re freaking gorgeous so I can’t blame him for trying, but here’s the thing about Bass Monroe. A) he’s old as dirt, and B) such a manwhore,” she enunciates with a curve of her lips that leaves Charlie suddenly flustered.

“And I’m Nora, by the way. Nora Clayton.”

The name is vaguely familiar, but she’s too busy drinking in the delicate lines of the other woman’s face to be able to place it. Nora rolls her eyes, and yup, she’s hot. She’s _smoking_ hot, Charlie’s libido moans, and that’s the moment Nora chooses to clarify. 

“I’m Miles’ ex.”

“God no,” Charlie whimpers, and something in the tone of her voice makes Bass look from Charlie to Nora, and back to Charlie. His smile, when it comes, is a slow, wicked thing that leaves Nora with one eyebrow raised in question, and Charlie shaking with expectation. 

He doesn’t take his eyes off the other woman as he moves his mouth to Charlie’s ear, tugging on her earlobe with his teeth before whispering into her ear.

“That would make _both_ of their heads explode,” he says, and it’s a warning. Sorta. But he's already got that low rasp in his voice, the one he gets right before they do something stupid and reckless and sublime, and fuck yes. She wants to do this thing.

"Well, in that case ..." Charlie murmurs back, then levers herself out of Bass' lap to go and slide in next to Nora. Her voice is a purr and the way her fingers draw shapes on the slim, brown hand makes her intentions clear. "Hi. I'm Charlie. I know exactly how old he is, and doubt Bass has enough sense to make money off his bod, so, hardly a manwhore. He's a very gifted amateur, though," she says, and Nora nods her head in such passionate agreement that they both dissolve into giggles.

prompt: kiss


	2. Getting to know you

So here’s the thing. She doesn’t know her uncle that well, given he was off fighting in the Middle East for most of her growing years, and has only returned to Chicago since retiring from the Marine Corps. She might have heard of Nora, but she’s certainly never met her before, and doesn’t know whether little Charlie even existed when Nora and Miles went out.

(But – she looks younger than Miles. Mid-thirties, maybe, a gorgeously preserved 40 at most. _Smoking_ hot, her libido reminds her. Focus!)

So she introduces herself as “Charlie”, carefully leaving out the Matheson. No point in queering her pitch, Charlie smirks. Though she’s pretty sure they’re all on the same page there, Nora biting at her lip a little when Charlie turns her hand over to play with her palm, those almond-shaped eyes suddenly plunging towards black.

“Champagne’s pretty ordinary,” Charlie offers. “We’ve got better upstairs.”

“Miles always was cheap,” Nora says lightly, sidestepping the obvious invitation. “Are you here for the bride or the groom?”

Bass nudges the leg of her chair under the table, as Charlie struggles for answer. “Kinda both, really. How’d an ex get invited to Miles’ wedding anyway?”

Nora snorts. “Rachel trying to rub my nose in it, most probably. Miles has been too scared to even say hi, so I’m thinking it wasn’t his idea. It’s okay, though. We were done a decade ago, and he’s a good friend when he’s not being a dick.”

“Amen to that,” Bass says fervently, saluting them both with a shot of whiskey. 

Jeremy ambles back to the table, making a doubletake when he sees Charlie snuggled up next to Nora. “Ah – Ben and Miles are getting kinda snarky over there. Somebody might need to pull them apart soon,” he tells the table at large.

“Not me,” Bass and Charlie say simultaneously, and Nora wrinkles her forehead and wonders “that’s the brother, right? Rachel’s first husband?”

“Ah ha,” Jeremy confirms, looking at Charlie with blank suspicion. “How the hell are you, Nora?”

“I’m doing good, Jeremy. It was weird at first, but it turns out leaving the Marines was the best thing I ever did. I’m a college professor now, would you believe it?”

He smiles, obviously pleased for her. “Yeah, I would. You were always the smartest of the lot of us, kid. ‘Cept for who you liked to hook up with, of course.”

Nora hides her smile and wraps her lower leg around Charlie’s under the table. Bass’ foot is there too, and there’s a moment before everyone’s limbs are appropriately accommodated. But only a moment.

“Some of us like to live dangerously, Jeremy,” Nora says eventually, arousal so thick in her voice that Charlie has to squeeze her thighs together.

Jeremy looks at each of them in turn, shaking his head with disbelief, then throws his hands in the air and stomps back to the bar. She should be embarrassed, Charlie knows, but she’s simply too thankful that Jeremy hasn’t scared Nora away before they’ve had a real chance to get to know each other properly.

Euphemism, her inner editor yells. Getting to know each other can wait. What she really wants is to head upstairs right now, and if the elevator doesn’t move fast enough, well. One of them will just have to do her the courtesy of fucking her on the way up.

Oh God, not helping with the polite conversation, her libido whines, just as Charlie succcumbs to the mental image of herself pressed up against the window in the half-glass elevator, staring out over the hotel lobby as Bass and Nora crouch at her feet, unseen. The only problem with her fantasy, Charlie has to admit, is that she doesn’t know what she wants more. To make them fuck while she watches, or to feel their hands, their mouths, their attention focused on her. 

"Maybe we should get out of here before the fights start," she says abruptly, and untangles herself from Nora and Bass to stand up. 

"Coming?"

prompt: euphemism


	3. Going Up

Charlie is wondering if she’s made a colossal, humiliating mistake when Bass collects his jacket from behind the chair and ambles over to stand behind her. He drops a kiss on the side of her head and then turns his attention to Nora.

“The champagne is all you, actually. Charlie said ‘surprise me’ and I remembered you used to love that one with the flowers painted on the bottle. So I got a bottle of that. And Charlie really liked it, so we stocked up,” Bass said with a sidelong grin full of sinful memories.

“What Charlie likes, Charlie gets?” Nora teases, but there’s real question under there too.

Bass answers with a steady gaze and the heated slide of his thumb along Charlie’s collarbone. “You know me, Nora. I just like making people happy.”

The wash of sensuality across the older woman’s face confirms something Charlie had suspected. Nora might have been Miles’ girlfriend, but she and Bass obviously had history of their own. Sinful, naked history.

Was she a fool, inviting another woman into their bed? Especially one who’d known Bass way longer than she had? Charlie darts a glance up at his face, only to see the harsh glitter of lust in his eyes soften into something warm and worshipful. He wraps his arms around her fully, cradling her from behind as he ghosts his lips across the top of her head.

“But Charlie always comes first.”

Nora’s mesmerising mouth curls up into a suggestive grin that puts Bass’ leer to shame. “Deal,” she says simply, then turns to gather her wrap.

The path to the elevator is a stumble of sly pretexts to touch each other: a hug here, a hair guided back into Nora’s messy chignon there. “This one,” Charlie insists when they stand in front of the bank of elevators; two are full glass, she remembers, but this one has panelling around the bottom. “Trust me,” she grins as they step inside.

Bass takes one look at the car and breaks into a chuckle; Nora figures it out a few moments later. “I think you, Charlie, are a very naughty girl,” she murmurs, obviously delighted.

Bass growls in agreement but offers one clarification. “She’s a woman, Nora. Fully grown, sexy as fuck, all woman.”

“But still naughty?”

“Oh yeah.”

A blush heats her cheeks, but Charlie is too horny to care. “If you old people are finished chatting? I’d like to play show, not tell.” She backs Nora into the corner to slam their bodies together, the crush of breasts and bellies and thighs making them both gasp.

Charlie sends up a prayer of thanks for the tall heels she’d chosen to wear, the three extra inches bringing all of the most delicious parts of their bodies into perfect alignment. Nora’s breasts are fuller than her own, her nipples more prominent, and the urge to yank down the conservative neckline of her dress and feast is nearly overwhelming. 

But they’re in an elevator. That would be madness.

Her hands don’t seem to be listening to her brain, though, because her fingernails are scraping back and forth over the prominent nubs, making Nora fill the enclosed space with a string of impassioned curses and bite madly at Charlie’s lips. 

Charlie tangles her fingers in little wisps of hair that frame Nora’s face, and holds her still so she can confess her lust directly into the other woman’s mouth. “Wanna take off your panties and taste you right now,” she groans. “Wanna eat you out. God – I wanna watch Bass fuck you while you eat me out,” she mutters as if the thought is agony.

(It is. Waiting is.)

“You will, baby, you will,” Nora assures her, sliding a hand down between them to cup Charlie’s burning mound as if making a promise. “Kiss me?”

They are both breathing hard, unbearably aroused, so the kiss should be a ravenous, passionate thing, but Charlie is suddenly taken by the flush that sits over Nora’s impossibly high cheekbones. “God you’re gorgeous,” she breathes, then ghosts their lips together, not kissing yet, but simply glorying in the smoothness of her skin, and the plump beauty of the lower lip that Nora likes to abuse with her tongue and teeth. Poor lip, she thinks, and slides her own tongue over it, a slow lick that makes Nora open her mouth wider on a moan. The tongues slide together and tangle sensuously, stroking, exploring, tasting. 

The kiss heats up so rapidly that the ding of the bell doesn’t register with either of them. “Heads up,” Bass warns, and steps in front of them to give them the time to readjust themselves as the elevator doors spring open. 

He shoots a wide grin to the couple that enters the car, then plays the attendant, hand poised over the control panel. “Going up?”

“Going down, thanks,” the elderly woman smiles, and Charlie nearly breaks as Nora’s shoulders shake next to hers.

prompt: madness


	4. This sweet mess

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is rated E for Ermagerd that's Explicit. (And I'm not even going to try and pretend it's anywhere in the vicinity of 500 words ... the LJ comm will get an excerpt :D

It’s always weirded her out how everybody in an elevator stands there, watching the numbers. But with Nora tense beside her, and Bass all coiled intensity in front of them, she doesn’t dare to think about anything else. Not with two strangers in the car with them.

(She’s on her knees on the carpet, sliding Nora’s panties down underneath that tight little skirt. Helping her step out of them, then turning her around to face the outside world while Charlie, hidden by the panel, runs her tongue over every inch of the newly bared flesh. Would Nora cry out? Would her face show exactly what was happening down below? Maybe Bass would step in behind her, cock heavy in his hand, and…)

“You okay there, sweetheart?”

Charlie swallows the moan and gropes for something publicly acceptable. Bass has moved backwards to lean up against the wall next to her, eyes hot on her face. “Mmm. Tired maybe.”

“Weddings will do that to you. Especially Matheson weddings.”

“Should we have said goodbye to Miles and Rachel?” Nora asks innocently, and Bass and Charlie share a guilty glance. They’re going to have to come clean at some point, Charlie knows. It’s not fair on Nora. But the intricacies of who’s-screwing-who in Matheson and Monroe circles was not really fit for airing in a public elevator.

“Not if you value your life,” Bass says darkly, and Charlie shoots Nora an apologetic look that promises an explanation later.

When they finally reach the 25th floor, they all nod politely at the couple then walk sedately out the doors. They haven’t taken more than a few steps when Charlie stops, then swings around to look at Bass. “Why’d they get in with us if they were going down anyway?”

“Think it had something to do with the two beautiful women making out in the back of the car. Pretty sure they got an eyeful,” he smirks. “She wished us a good time.”

Charlie slides her keycard over the access panel, then heads straight for the bar once the door clicks open. She ignores the selection of spirits and mixers for their own purchases: three bottles of champagne and two tubs of real-strawberry icecream. Charlie grabs one of each and heads for the couch, asking Bass to bring spoons, bowls and glasses.

“The champagne I expected, but icecream?” Nora laughs, and Charlie can’t help but grin back.

“Spiders, ‘cept I like them with lots of icecream and a little bit of champagne, in a bowl. To start with, at least,” she says, smirking at Bass as he plonks the bowls down on the coffee table and sprawls on the couch. Charlie busies herself with filling the bowls while Nora kicks off her shoes and curls up at the far end of the couch, leaving the space in between for her.

It’s a surprising distance, after the heat of them in the elevator, but maybe it’s for the best, Charlie thinks. They need to have this talk.

Hopefully the sweet will help the bitter go down, Charlie thinks as she scoops. Bass gets just a token – she knows damn well he prefers his straight from her skin – but for Nora and herself she fills the bowl. “Champagne?” she asks, spraying it over her own and filling a glass to boot, but Nora shakes her head and takes a glass instead. “Better apart, I’ve always thought.”

“Each to their own. Bass just thinks I love to make a mess,” Charlie grins cheekily, then ends up biting her lips as Nora’s eyes cloud with lust.

“Mmm. I’d like to make a mess with you,” she says, leaning forward to press a champagne-flavoured kiss to Charlie’s mouth, then the side of her neck. “But the question is, am I allowed to make a mess with Bass too?”

Charlie’s heart slams against her ribs as the moment presents itself. “As long as I get to help, yes. But Nora, there’s something you should know first.” She drags in a breath to brace herself, then blurts the truth for fear of chickening out.

“I’m Charlie Matheson. Rachel’s daughter. Miles’ niece.”

Nora rears back a little, then blinks as if processing the information. Huffs out a little breath, takes another that’s obviously designed to calm her down, then strikes.

“And you’re telling me now because?”

Charlie flushes and wonders how to explain what it felt like to have your name dominate your life so completely. Yes, she was a Matheson, but sometimes she wanted to be just Charlie, without all the drama that liked to follow her family around. But then, her mother would argue it was her Matheson genes that made her prone to just taking what she wanted. To acting before she’d given something more than a moment’s thought. To the driving need to gobble it all down, men and women and booze and drugs and food and sex and _life_.

“Just greedy, I guess. But we were always going to tell you. Before things went any further, I mean.”

Nora swings her glare to Bass, as if realising for the first time just how complicit he was.

“And you! You know exactly how Miles would feel about this, let alone Rachel. Do they even know about you and Charlie?”

“Yeah, they know. That’s not to say they don’t hate it, but,” Bass shrugs, one too many fistfights past caring. “On the upside, Charlie really gets off on pissing off her mom.”

“You were the one who said this would make both their heads explode,” Charlie protests, but she’s more worried about Nora thinking this was more about Rachel and less about her. “That’s not what this is about, not really. I wanted this even before I knew who you were, Nora. And I’m pretty sure you knew it.”

The other woman’s patrician features soften into something just short of a smile. “So far, so Matheson. Lord you people are lucky you’re pretty,” she says acidly, but she’s settling back down onto the couch, and picking up her bowl again.

“Thought I was the pretty one,” Bass says forlornly. Charlie swipes at him with her spoon, and ends up licking her icecream off his cheek. 

“Pretty tasty, anyway,” she says, and purposely dribbles a second spoonful down his shirtfront. “Oops. Does icecream stain, Nora?”

“Horribly,” Nora says, pokerfaced. “You should probably take it off.”

“Well, would you look at that,” Charlie clucks as she slips button after button free of their holes. The little trail of icecream has made it nearly to his navel, and she lets her gaze lock on his before she starts to lap it up.

He’s groaning before she hits his bottom rib, and when she stops to pull at his nipple with her teeth, he howls with delight.

And suddenly, Nora is there.

“On no, Sergeant. Did we say you could make any noise? I don’t think so.”

Charlie is about to object – she loves the sounds she can pull from him – when Nora reaches over to lift off the tie that’s still looped around her neck. She unknots it and drapes it back and forth over Bass’ chest a few times before sliding it into his mouth and knotting it behind his head.

“There. Now nobody has to listen to the things we’re going to do to you,” she says, tapping his cheek playfully. Then her eyes settle on Charlie’s, serious and demanding. “Nobody but us is ever going to know about this. I won’t lose someone I care about over a mad fling, no matter how hot. If we do this, it stays between us.”

“Deal,” Charlie grins, then leans back from her perch between Bass’ knees to pick up the carton of icecream. “Money where your mouth is, Clayton.”

They chase the sticky treat up and down his torso, piling it on his nipples to take in the effect, licking it out of the grooves of his abs, and the hollow of his belly. They don’t touch his still belted trousers until he starts to keen through the gag, the shape of him pushing up so insistently against the black tuxedo pants that Charlie wonders if it actually hurts to be that hard.

He’ll get over it, she thinks with a smirk, casually climbing up his body to talk to Nora, making sure to press down with the heel of her hand as she crosses the most sensitive part of his anatomy. She adjusts her weight, dragging her fingers across the top of his still-clothed cock, then gives up the pretense, stroking him through the fabric as she and Nora talk about … something.

Their eyes meet, full of mischief, and agree to torture him a little more.

“Nora. Sit up.”

Charlie urges her forward until Nora is sitting on the edge of the couch, then slowly insinuates herself between Nora's knees, hands trailing underneath the filmy red material to tangle in the sleek, satiny thong posing as Nora’s underwear. She tugs, Nora lifting her bottom to allow their passage, Charlie’s fingers trailing along every inch of bare skin they find. 

A string of muffled curses next to them drags her attention to Bass, who is even harder than he was when they were lavishing him with attention. He’s trying to tell her something, Charlie knows, blue eyes scorching, so she drags the tie down to let him speak.

“Spread her, Charlie. Spread her out for me and see if she can stay quiet.”

“You’re going to blow a gasket if I do that.”

“So I come all over my pants. Won’t be the first time you’ve made me do that. I wanna see your face when you make her come. Wanna see you both come. Fuck, 69 it. Please, for me?”

Nora’s laugh has Bass wrinkling his nose at her, even as his hand walks up her thigh to disappear under her dress. “Like you aren’t dripping, Nora. See?” He’s barely swiped at her and his fingers are shiny with her juices. “Better than icecream any day of the week,” he mumbles as he sucks his fingers clean, almost frantic with lust.

“Well, congratulations Miss Matheson. Your man is officially a babbling fool," Nora teases. "I do like his plan though. Me underneath, you on top. Whoever’s loudest gets bent over the back of the couch.”

“That’s your idea of punishment?”

“Didn’t say what would happen once you were bent over, sweetie. Come here.”

Nora swivels around so that her head is resting next to Bass’ thigh, the red dress flowing around her like all seven mortal sins. Charlie looms over her for a moment, then gives in to the urge that had first struck in the elevator, pulling the stretchy fabric down to expose the red satin bra, and nestled inside, Nora's glorious full breasts. She lifts them out worshipfully, pushing them high so that they spill out over the still fastened bra, showcasing Nora's swollen nipples, long, dark bullets that make her mouth water. Charlie learns their contours with her greedy tongue, tracing circles around the bumpy areola with the tip before flattening it to swirl in ever decreasing circles. Bass, she notices is working the other nipple between his fingers, plucking and pinching and twisting, his other hand busy at work between Nora’s thighs.

"Charlie. Clothes off," he growls, and she backs away from the mesmerising picture a little to tear at her own clothes, the ridiculously expensive all-white suit from a Japanese designer her mother loved. Jacket, camisole, skirt and underwear alike end up in a hasty pile on the floor, forgotten in her haste to return to the tangle of limbs on the couch.

She crawls up Nora’s body until her knees are spread wide around the other woman’s shoulders, her throbbing pussy poised directly over her face. Bass’ hands have moved to her ass, another point of sensation in a blinding storm of it, slapping at the sensitive cheeks and stealing lubrication from her drenched pussy to slick up the tight little rosebud above. They’re talking to each other, she realises after a moment, plotting, and the only revenge she can think of is to drop her knees wide and descend fully into Nora’s eager mouth.

Nora’s lips have already closed around her clit by the time Charlie’s tongue has finished acquainting itself with every last contour Nora’s blood-flushed pussy. She’d been challenged to be quiet, she remembers vaguely, her moans alternating with the delicious music of slurp and suck, but it’s unfair, completely fucking unfair when Bass’ long fingers rub circles over her pucker just like he knows she loves, then bury themselves deep in her pussy to hammer her G-spot. All the while, Nora's tongue is busy working its way around and over her clit, flicking at it, ghosting over it, teasing, never quite enough until the perfect moment when Bass' fingers plunge upwards exactly at the moment Nora stops teasing and settles into a furious hard suck.

Charlie comes like a freight train, burying her scream in the other woman’s sex as her hips slam down onto Nora’s face. When conscious thought returns a few seconds later, she vows revenge, licking long stripes back and forth across the full landscape of pussy and asshole and perineum between. She takes her time, savouring the gushes of wetness and the different reactions she can pull from Nora as she whips at the tender folds with a stiff tongue, or uses her teeth to drag over the petals of her sex. She’s not too proud to copy the technique, pulling the swollen button between her lips to worry it mercilessly as she stabs two fingers deep inside Nora’s wet heat. Within seconds, Nora convulses around them, keening. Neither of them are in any state to testify who won the goddamn competition.

Except Bass. Who declares it a draw, smiles his wolf smile and demands they both bend over and accept what’s coming to them.


	5. Swim the deepest sea

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yup, still E for Explicit.

Charlie Matheson met Sebastian Monroe on a Saturday afternoon just after one, and by five o’clock had committed the swell and surge of him to memory. Within a week, she’d been in his bed more nights than not, and before the month was out, they’d realised this was the big one. The real thing.

Love.

They’d been more or less living together ever since, and amid the everyday business of work and study and dealing with her crazy family, Charlie had dedicated herself to exploring him, her own personal Wonderland. Kinks, erogenous zones, the type of talk that turned him on – six months together, and she had thought she knew everything there was to know about the man.

But she had no idea about this.

Her laughing, considerate lover has a flat note of command in his voice as he positions herself and Nora over the back of the couch, bare asses raised high while their faces push down into the cushions below. His eyes glitter with pure, unadorned lust as he stands between them, one hand on Nora’s bare ass and the other on hers, snapping out orders.

“Spread your legs. Need to see those pretty pussies.”'

“Pinch your nipples. Harder, Marine. Make it sting.”

“I’m gonna spank you now. Say ‘Rachel’ when you want me to stop.”

She’s laughing – no way! – when the flat of his hand lands on the roundness of one butt cheek and she nearly chokes on her tongue in surprise.

He’s fucking serious.

Her butt is stinging – another blow, and then another – before the surprise starts to wane and she starts thinking she should just tell him to stop.

But then …

“So wet, Charlie. This has always been Nora’s favorite thing, but I didn’t think you’d be quite so shameless about it,” he sneers, and she wants to punch him.

But her pussy is burning even hotter than her backside, and every time he brings his hand down, the vibrations …

Six, seven, eight, she counts, and there are tears in her eyes, and WHY doesn’t she just say it, why, and she needs, she needs …

Ten, and she hears his happy exhalation, and God, oh God, oh God, he’s sliding into her, gripping her hips as Nora turns her head to watch, her eyes glazed with something wild.

“Feel good, sweetie?” Nora pants, sliding herself closer so that they can kiss while Bass pistons into her, so hard and fast that’s she’s immediately on the edge. Tears of frustration well in her eyes, and Nora pulls back a little to examine her face, then smiles softly.

“She needs more, Bass.”

“That right, Charlie? Baby?”

Her answer is an incoherent babble that eventually resolves itself into please, please, please. Every patch of over-sensitised skin, every part of her swimming in adrenaline and champagne, explodes into a ball of white hot feeling that might be masquerading as pain, but once she lets go, once she falls over …

“Oh Jesus fucking fuck. Bass! Nora! Oh fuck, please, Bass!” she screams, her entire body convulsing with the unbelievable pleasure. Her vision goes black, and she doesn’t even bother to fight it, wants to drown in it, until Nora pulls her hair back from her face and she realises she’s simply turned her face into the black leather cushions, brain so bedazzled she hadn’t known which way was up.

“You okay, baby?”

She barely manages a groan, so Bass scoops her up and lays her out full length on the couch, still racked with spasms. He didn’t even come, her brain insists on pointing out, yet she is wrecked. And Nora, still spreadeagled, her ass in the air, waiting …

“What about Nora?” she mumbles, and Bass strokes her cheek. 

“Lots of ways we can take care of her, baby. You tell me what to do,” he says. There’s so much love shining in his eyes that, even though she can hear his choked desire, see it written in his angry red cock, she never once doubts he’ll do exactly as she asks.

“Make her come, Bass. Like you did for me. So hard,” she wails, sex clenching in yet another encore. “But … don’t come inside her,” Charlie says, somewhat baffled as to why that should even matter to her. But it does. 

“Why?”

She knows Bass isn’t trying to deny her. He wants her to spell it out, explicitly. Erotically.

“You’re mine. Your cum is mine. I want to see it all over her back. I want to …”

“Don’t you dare fucking stop.”

“I’ll lick it off her. Suck it out of her cunt if I have to. _Mine_.”'

His tortured cock jumps at the growl in her voice, and Charlie can’t help but run a hand over it, and pull him bodily to her mouth. She has no intention of sucking him off, no plans to deprive Nora of his hardness, just needs to remind herself of his taste. (Her power over him.)

He’s fucking her mouth by the time Charlie looks up to find Nora watching them avidly, one hand working furiously between her legs. She releases him with a pop, knowing he is right on the edge of a long-overdue orgasm.

“Come here.”

Nora comes.

“Kneel down. Face in my pussy.”

Nora kneels.

“Bass.”

He moves behind Nora, cock in hand, and enters her in one hard thrust. Nora’s moan is purely involuntary, but it sends Charlie into another round of aftershocks, the splash of hot breath on oversensitised tissues simply too much for her overwhelmed sex.

Her libido doesn’t care, hips bucking upwards as Nora’s clever fingers dance over her swollen petals, avoiding her clit only to plunge inside the aching cavern. 

“Come with me, Charlie,” Nora urges. “Come with us!”

It’s simply not going to happen, Charlie thinks, her body simply won’t let it. Then Nora adds a third finger, scissoring them wide, her motions hard and frantic in time with Bass’ unrelenting thrusts.

Charlie comes with an astonished yell, but it’s drowned out by Nora’s shout. And then Bass bellows like a bull, rearing backwards to paint stripe after stripe along the graceful line of Nora’s back. The sight of it is enough to get Charlie back on her feet, padding over to lean up against Bass and admire his handiwork.

He’s still shaking when she sinks to the floor to suck his cock into her mouth, hungry tongue keen to chase down every molecule of his release. His knees buckle before she is satisfied – she guides him to the couch beside Nora, then shifts her focus to cleaning her friend.

Are they? Can they be friends after something like this? Or does obliterating that many boundaries make it impossible, Charlie wonders, then dismisses the thought. She’s too tired to grapple with such things tonight.

They’ll deal with it in morning. Preferably after several bouts of morning sex, Charlie tells herself, and falls asleep smiling.


	6. With a bang

Room service at the Grand is universally excellent, but on reflection, Charlie should have probably checked the peephole before swinging the door wide in anticipation of more champagne.

It’s not room service. It’s Rachel and Miles, their faces contorting with surprise, then curiosity as they take in Charlie’s towel-covered nakedness, then frown at the trashed room beyond, icecream melting all over the coffee table and empty bottles of champagne rolling on the floor. Her mother’s face is looking pinched even before she notices the two bodies slumbering in the wide bed beyond, the imprint of Charlie’s body still visible in the sheets between them.

“Charlie! It’s bad enough that you’ve taken up with that man, but – have you no sense of decency?” Rachel hisses, elbowing Miles in the ribs in what’s obviously a “say something!” moment. Charlie can barely keep the grin off her face as her new stepfather struggles to find something appropriately chastising to say; from everything Bass and Nora have said, Miles has to be feeling like a hypocrite.

And then Nora sits up sleepily, throwing her long cascade of hair out of her face before stretching her arms overhead in a truly spectacular display of smooth brown skin over fabulously honed muscles.

Miles makes a sound like a wounded bull.

“Nora? Jesus on the fucking cross, what are you doing here? With them?”

He’s not being disingenuous, either, the poor man. He’s genuinely uncomprehending as to why his ex would be in bed with his former best friend and his niece. Stepdaughter. Whatever.

Charlie can’t help it. The devil sits on her shoulder at the best of times, and she’s vaguely pissed off by the open secret that her mother cheated on her Dad with his brother for all those years, and now Rachel the Perfect wanted everyone to paper over the cracks and pretend they weren’t the most fucked up family in existence.

But she probably wasn’t fair to Nora when she pushed her up against the wall like that and kissed her to within an inch of her life. With tongue. And fingers that Charlie then blatantly sucks clean, one by one, as her mother spirals into an ungodly rage.

Miles actually helps Nora to escape, in the end, ushering her up the hallway with an oddly apologetic air that makes Charlie think he’s already regretting his own foray into Rachel’s holier-than-thou bullshit.

Bass sleeps on.

“Guess you girls wore him out,” Miles says neutrally when their eyes meet at one point during Rachel’s rant. 

“Oh, we really did,” Charlie says coolly, but lets her lips curve into a tiny smirk. Miles hangs his head then, but not before she catches the twitch at the corner of his mouth. At least he has a sense of humour, this stranger who has married her mom and happens to share her blood. 

It’s not surprising, when she thinks about it. He and Bass had been friends, best friends apparently, for 30 years before they somehow fell out. They’d just been rebuilding things when Ben and Maggie had invited the whole clan over for a Fourth of July picnic, during which Miles managed to fall in love with Rachel all over again, and Bass and Charlie had snuck off together within an hour of being introduced.

World War III hadn’t been far behind. 

This may even be a bigger explosion than that had been, Charlie thinks as she tries not to listen to her mother’s rant – _attention-seeking … no daughter of mine … normal people … Matheson …. Greedy slut!_  
”  
It’s not until she slams the door in her mother’s face that Bass rolls over sleepily and opens one eye.

“What the hell was that?”

Charlie shrugs, her smirk a mile wide. “Mom and Miles. We may have just triggered the apocalypse.”

“Fuck. How am I still alive?”

“Maybe there’s something in what my Mom said after all.”

Bass frowns, obviously worried, and Charlie lets the towel drop to the floor. “You,” she says, crawling up onto the bed, “are apparently the Devil himself. Satan. The Great Seducer who relieves innocent maidens of their virtue and despoils everything he touches.”

“I’m that good?”

Charlie laughs and seats herself across his midsection with a teasing wiggle that smears him with the evidence of just how despoiled she wants to be. Bass sits upright to take her mouth, and the momentum slides her backwards onto his rapidly awakening cock.

“Oh yeah baby. You … really … are,” she moans into their kiss as his hardness strokes folds that are still sore from the night before. Not too sore, she rhapsodises as he licks gently at the angry bite mark on her left breast, then circles his tongue around the poor, abraded nipple. Never too sore, her pleasure centres chorus, already begging for him.

“Well, if this is the way the world’s gonna end,” Bass grins, tweaking at her clit before her sheaths himself in a single upwards thrust, “let’s make sure we go out with a bang _and_ a whimper.”

_prompt: apocalypse_


	7. Light Me Up

Eleven Saturdays have come and gone when they next see Nora.

The University of Texas had been sniffing around ever since Charlie had turned in her doctoral thesis, and she’s turned down two offers before Bass bullies her into checking them out.

“If you’re worried about them taking it as a commitment, don’t even tell them you’re coming! Go up on a weekend and just have a prowl round, get a feel for the place,” he says.

“Will you come with me?” she asks, and neither of them are sure whether she means to Austin on her factfinding trip, or to Texas in general. Or Connecticut. Or even California.

“Yes,” he says, so heartfelt that she has to wipe away tears. “Whereever you want to go.”

Turns out they both love Austin, and UT’s deal is hard to beat. They’re moving boxes into her brand new office on a Saturday morning when a familiar, liquid voice makes them turn to the door.

“Hello neighbour,” Nora Clayton drawls, and Charlie can only grin.

“Dr Clayton,” she says primly, then dumps the armful of papers she was trying to file to offer Nora her hand.

One perfectly coiffed eyebrow shoots high and Nora snorts in disgust.

“You’ve had your tongue in my mouth, Matheson. You can do better than that,” she purrs, and pulls Charlie in for a kiss. “Monroe, get over here.”

He’s grinning by the time he lifts his mouth from Nora’s. “Look, honey. We’ve got at least one friend in Texas,” he smirks, and pulls Nora into the room, shutting the door behind her.

Twenty two Saturdays later, the Matheson clan gathers once more for a family wedding. This time Charlie and Bass sit at the top table, Miles and Rachel on their left and Ben and Maggie on their right. Danny Matheson and Connor Bennett flee to the bar as soon as humanly possible, Danny at pains to explain to his new step-nephew that, no, not all the stories are true.

Then they stumble out onto the terrace together and find the bride and her chief bridesmaid trading long, wet kisses around the groom’s rampant, well-loved cock.

“Nora’s banging my Dad and Charlie?”'

“Yeah. That one is actually true.”

“But I heard she used to go out with Miles!”

Danny shrugs. “Yeah, that’s true, too.”

“And your Mom cheated on your Dad with his brother.”

“Also true.”

“And you’re gay as fuck and look really hot in that tux?”

“Maybe the stories are all true,” Danny grins, and pushes Connor back into the shrubbery to welcome him to the family.

_fin_

*

prompt: Saturday

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ‘Light me up’ comes from the Cold Chisel song ‘Saturday Night’ which is astonishingly poetic for a piece of classic ‘go out and get pissed’ Australiana. 
> 
> (and this time it really is finished :D)


End file.
